Say No to Titchmarsh




I am becoming increasingly exercised by the BBC’s insistence on destroying potentially high-quality programming by inflicting on viewers the ubiquitous imbecile Alan Titchmarsh as presenter.

This smug, self-regarding cretin is a tired parody of himself, yet from sub-Partridge day time chat shows he has somehow been promoted to fronting the Corporation’s prime time flagship natural history series Britain: A Natural History and latterly The Nature of Britain.

If it wasn’t bad enough having his irritating round head constantly filling the TV screen, on a visit to Waterstones on Saturday I rounded a corner to be confronted with an entire display of smirking Titchmarshs as the incurable scrivener has seen fit to inflict a volume of autobiography on the unwitting public. It is titled in irksome Yorkshire dialect “Nobbbut a Lad”, which on its own is enough to justify a book burning. Titchmarsh’s debut novel, I am reliably informed, featured an overlooked TV gardener becoming a national sex symbol and conquering the nation!

Surely I can’t be alone in wanting this flatulent fraud consigned to the television dustbin! What is he for? Why is he on television? Can someone please remove him? If he wants to eat his dinner off the ground having first had a badger test it for poison let him do it in his own time!

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